


we could have been, we really could have

by satan_in_trouble



Series: homestuck [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Angst, M/M, Sad Ending, Sadstuck, inspired by mitski god bless her, male reader - Freeform, this is just melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23340298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satan_in_trouble/pseuds/satan_in_trouble
Summary: it's worse than breaking up, because you weren't leaving him behind at all. you're still friends.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Reader
Series: homestuck [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689196
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	we could have been, we really could have

dave’s hands are always cold. it’s part of his charm. you used to make jokes about his body temperature lowering itself to fight the texas heat. he’d tip an imaginary cowboy hat, reciting some western movie.

his couch is old, and worn, and he’s letting you sit so much closer than he would let anyone else. personal space doesn’t matter much right now. you’ve both kissed enough times to disregard it.

“i’m sorry, y’know.” your voice breaks the quiet, and you can almost see the words curling into the air like bright white smoke, clashing with his dull red furniture. “that things ended this way.”

“things haven’t ended. it’s just a shift in the dynamic. the dynamic took a little cha-cha slide to the right. stepped from maybe-romantic to awkwardly-platonic.” he’s just as quiet, both of you facing the ceiling.

“right. the dance floor went from a lusty red to a solidly friendly white.” 

“exactly.”

you trace your eyes up his nose, to his shades and his hair. he hasn’t taken off those sunglasses, despite the fact that the room is basically pitch black.

“i’m still sorry we made that shift. that we couldn’t work.”

“it’s not either of our faults.”

“yeah, i know, but that still-” you pause, closing your eyes. “i wish we could be an actual thing. wish we weren’t so screwed.”

his hand brushes yours, and settles there. his fingers are fucking freezing.

“i like you. and you like me, which is obvious, because i’m pretty great. and we both have great kissing skills. but sometimes that isn’t enough. sometimes you can like someone and not be ready for a big cannon-ball dive into the pool of commitment. sometimes you can want someone really bad and know that the relationship would dissolve faster than a tooth in a coke can in your second grade science room.”

“fuck, that is wise. are you sure rose is the smart one?”

“she’s smart. i’m wise. i’m the wisest. people can hardly believe it. sometimes they ask if i’m secretly an owl.”

“damn. you’re more like a crow. all scraggly and small.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, he just wraps his hand around yours tighter. you want to kiss him, because this is your last chance, and so you move to press your lips on his. it’s slow, and simple, and there’s tears tapping at your eyes. before you start sobbing into the kiss, he pulls away and squeezes your hand. 

you fall asleep on his shitty couch, hands together, your last hours of being dave’s maybe-boyfriend spent in the dark quietly. you wake up nothing more than friends. you wake up and you both pull your hands apart. he offers you some ‘expertly hand-crafted eggo waffles’ to start the day. you propose going to a record store. neither of you mention the past.

**Author's Note:**

> back on my strider bs


End file.
